IT must have been on, or very near,
Saturday morning, December 7, I859--indeed I think it was that very
morning--that an incident occurred in the parlor of my house, then on
South Professor Street, which has taken its place in memory as one of
the most pathetic experiences of my life. A father and mother,
neighbors whom I knew, came to my door and asked for an interview.
They were Mr. and Mrs. John Copeland--people, in part, of African
blood, of respectable standing in the community, and of amiable and
Christian deportment. A son of these parents is still favorably known
among us as a business partner of Mr. Charles Glenn, the builder. As
I received them, I saw that they were in deep distress. The mother
especially, exhibited such intense suffering--suffering so affecting
both body and mind--that it was a question whether she would not sink
to the floor, in utter exhaustion, before the conference could be
completed. Their story is soon told. A son of the family, John A.
Copeland, a young man about twenty-six years of age, had gone, some
months before, to Chatham, in Canada, to visit a married sister.
While there he had met an agent of John Brown, who invited him to
join in the Virginia raid. Enthusiastic for the deliverance of both
the races with which he was identified from the curse of slavery, and
an ardent admirer of Brown, he accepted the invitation. With the
result of the raid we are all acquainted. Brown was executed December
2, 1859, at Charlestown, Virginia. On the sixteenth day of December,
came the execution of Copeland, at the same place. I have in my
possession a letter, written by him on that day to his parents,
brothers, and sisters in Oberlin, within two hours probably of the
time of his ascending the scaffold, which, in its exhibition of
Christian peace, of a spirit of forgiveness, of domestic affection,
and of profound calm, will not compare unfavorably with any of the
last utterances of apostles and martyrs. You will see that the day of
his execution was the one immediately preceding that of the visit of
his parents to me. I have spoken of the extreme suffering of Mrs.
Copeland. It was noticeable however, that the grief which tortured
her did not spring mainly from the thought of her son's execution.
That, comparatively, seemed a tolerable affliction. John Brown had
been executed, and so had been many of the great and good. The
gallows upon which her son perished seemed irradiated by the goodly
fellowship in suffering of prophets and reformers. This could be
borne. The intolerable agony was caused by a report, which had come
over the wires, and which appeared to be well founded, that the body
of her son had been, or soon would be, taken to the medical college
at Winchester, Virginia, for the purposes of dissection, About this
she seemed to have a feeling akin to superstition. She had lain awake
all night, turning the painful subject over in every form that a
morbid imagination could suggest, until the torture had become more
than brain and heart could endure; and unless some diversion--some
relief--could be furnished, both brain and heart, it seemed probable,
must give way. Under these circumstances, the parents had come to me
to ask that I would go promptly to Winchester, and endeavor to
recover the body of their son. I did not covet the undertaking, and I
thought it right to explain to them that it would be likely to result
in failure. Great excitement still prevailed in Virginia. Soldiers
were still marching and counter-marching, military reviews were being
held, and that military spirit was being awakened which was
maintained from that time until the close of the war. The very
presence of a Northern abolitionist in Virginia, upon such an errand
in such a state of public feeling, might be regarded as, in itself, a
grave offense. It was true that the body of John Brown had been
returned to his widow; but special influences had been brought to
bear in that case; and besides, Brown had the important advantage
that he did not belong to the despised race. I did not fail to
present these points to Mrs. Copeland; but they made no impression.
She still entreated me to go, and I could not refuse her. I suppose I
never pitied any one so much in my whole life.

Having decided to undertake the
journey, I at. once made such preparation as I could. From Hiram
Griswold, a prominent lawyer of Cleveland who had acted as Brown's
attorney during his trial, I obtained a letter of introduction to
Judge Parker of Winchester--the Judge who had sentenced both Brown
and Copeland. Mr. Copeland, the father, or some friend for him, had
telegraphed to Henry A. Wise, then Governor of Virginia, asking
permission to send some one into the State to obtain the body of his
son. A telegram came in reply which read in substance:--"You may send
a man, but he must be a white man." This telegram I took with me,
together with a paper from Mr. Copeland authorizing me to act as his
agent in receiving the body.

I was now fairly well equipped for my
journey, except that I had no money for the payment of expenses; and
my friend Copeland was almost as impecunious as I was. In this
exigency, James M. Fitch, who was for many years a bookseller and
publisher in Oberlin, and whose memory is still held in reverence for
his many good works, brought me one hundred dollars which he had
somehow obtained in the town. I fear he had secured it by
solicitation from door to door among business men and other
citizens--a method of raising money which even to this day is
something more than a tradition among us.

You will say that I now took the
first train for Winchester. But this will be because you are too
young to have had any experience of those times. In 1859 a man who
got together a hundred dollars to go East had perhaps performed the
smaller part of the needed financial operation. That was the period
of the state-bank system, or rather of the state-bank systems; for
there were as many of them as there were States that chose to
legislate upon the subject. The result was that there was an endless
variety of paper money, of all degrees of soundness except the
highest. In Ohio, besides our own money, we had many kinds of bank
bills from Michigan, from Indiana, and from States farther west. Upon
these, even when from banks called good, there was a discount of from
ten to thirty per cent when exchanged for coin. On looking over the
money which I had received, I discovered that it was rich in these
varieties, and that it was necessary to ascertain how much its
nominal values represented in those which were real; in other words,
what was the purchasing power of my hundred dollars. Fortunately for
me, we had at that time in Oberlin a business man who was an expert
in the quality of paper money. He received the latest counterfeit
detectors, and the latest journals giving the rates of discount, at
the Eastern money centers, upon all Western bank notes He was our
helpful adviser in our financial troubles. To him I took my money. He
went over it with me carefully, and gave me all needed information.
So far as it seemed probable that he could use my Western bills in
the way of business, he gave me New York and other Eastern bills in
exchange for them. He very much improved the quality of my money-not,
I fear, without some loss to himself.

One incident of our interview I have
always thought unique. Among the bank notes which Mr. Fitch had
brought me, there was a considerable number of one-dollar bills. Of
these perhaps twelve or fifteen were on the Northern Bank of
Kentucky. My friend smiled when he saw them. "These," said he, "are
all counterfeit. See how distressed the face of old Harry Clay looks
on these notes. But although they are counterfeit, you will have no
trouble with them. There is such a scarcity of small bills that
business men, by common consent, receive them and pay them
out."

In regard to the scarcity of small
bills at that time, I might add, that it was, in part, due to the
decided stand taken by one of the political parties in favor of the
use of coin. To promote this, they discouraged, and sometimes
prohibited, through the State legislatures, the issuing of small
notes, their theory being that, as a vacuum would thus be produced,
and as nature abhors a vacuum, gold and silver would flow in to fill
it. But gold and silver did not flow in, for it turned out that the
vacuum abhorred gold and silver worse than nature abhorred the
vacuum. Then, as always, no way was discovered to induce men to use
the dearest money that could be found to meet their obligations. The
most patriotic Whig or Democrat would not go to a broker's and buy
coin at a premium to pay small debts, when, by letting them run until
they were larger, he could pay them in depreciated bills of higher
denomination, or, perhaps, could pay them at once, by
barter.

I was somewhat startled by my
friend's liberal views and what he told me of the practice under
them. It was an anomaly which only the general financial disorder
could have produced. I have thought this the most remarkable case of
fiat money of which I have any knowledge. Here there was no
government behind these bills declaring them to be money. The only
fiat that gave them currency was an understanding tacitly reached by
business men, and based upon a supposed public convenience. Our
Populist friends would, perhaps, find fresh confirmation for their
views, in a case like this.

I left Oberlin for Winchester,
Monday, December 19, going by way of Wheeling and Harper's Ferry over
the Baltimore and Ohio Railway. Owing to the delay of my train,
caused by heavy snows in the Alleghenies, I did not reach Harper's
Ferry until afternoon on Wednesday. Then I took the Winchester,
Potomac, and Strasburg road, which ran by Charlestown and Winchester.
As I took my seat in the car, I discovered the first evidence of the
excited condition of the country. When the conductor came to receive
my ticket, he said, "Excuse me, sir, but it is made my duty to ask
for the name of every stranger entering the State." I gave him my
name and it appeared to be entirely satisfactory. In one part of the
car there was a group of ladies and gentlemen talking about John
Brown. I soon discovered that among them was Captain Avis, the jailer
who had charge of Brown during his imprisonment. I heard him say that
Brown had spoken of the kindness with which Captain Avis had treated
him as a reason why he would not attempt to escape from jail.

It was near sunset when I reached
Winchester. I went directly to the Taylor House, having been told
that that was the best hotel in the town. As I entered the clerk's
office, I was reminded that I must register my name and address. As
several rough and rather spirituous looking persons were standing
about, it occurred to me, that the word Oberlin written upon the page
of the register, for the inspection of such people, might produce a
degree of excitement unfavorable to my object in visiting the place.
Calling to mind the name of the township in which Oberlin was
situated, I went promptly to the clerk's desk, the men dividing to
enable me to do so, and wrote in a good bold hand, "James Monroe,
Russia." I withdrew, and the crowd went up to examine the record. I
left them studying upon it. The landlord told me, the next day, that
when they asked him who James Monroe of Russia was, he replied that
all he knew about it was I was a Russian. I have already spoken of
Judge Parker as residing in Winchester; and having ascertained his
address, I went at once to his house. I found him, presented my
letter of introduction from Mr. Griswold, and was most courteously
received. I told him my story-somewhat as I have told it to you--and
explained how entirely my errand was one of humanity--of compassion
for an afflicted father and mother. Very sincerely, as I believe, he
expressed his sympathy with my object, his readiness to help me in
it, and his opinion that it could be accomplished. He invited me to
take tea with himself and his family, and proposed that, after tea,
we should, together, pay a visit to the President of the Medical
College, Dr. McGuire, and if it met his approval, should then send
for other members of the Faculty, and have a meeting for consultation
in regard to the object of my mission. I of course staid to the
evening meal, and the invitation to attend a Faculty Meeting seemed
so natural that it made me feel quite at home. I found Mrs. Parker a
very agreeable lady, and we had a pleasant social occasion around the
family table. After tea, Judge Parker went with me to Dr. McGuire's.
On the way I happened to remark that I had sometimes thought that
John Brown was not entirely sane. He repudiated this opinion, saying
that he had observed Brown closely during the trial, and was
convinced that he had a great deal of intelligent malice. The Faculty
Meeting was held, and was entirely satisfactory. So far as I could
judge, the best feeling existed. It was unanimously agreed that the
body of Copeland should be delivered to me to be returned to the home
of his parents. The college undertaker was present. He promised that
he would work a portion of the night, and that by nine o'clock on the
following morning, my sorrowful freight should be decently prepared
for delivery at the express office. I was cautioned by one of the
professors not to speak of the object of my visit at the hotel. I
could readily assure them that I would not, and, within myself, I
thought it much more likely that the news would get out through some
one of the families of those who were present than through me.
Feeling, however, no concern about the matter, I returned to the
public house, and went to bed happy. I thought I saw my way clear to
take back the body of the young soldier of liberty to his sorrowing
family to be buried in the soil of Oberlin. I might say here, that I
had already mentioned, more than once, that I bore upon my person the
permission of Governor Wise to visit Virginia for the purpose I had
in view, and I had perhaps exhibited his telegram. But this
permission could, in any event, have only a moral weight, and that
proved to be but small in Winchester, as the Governor did not appear
to be popular there. In the morning a colored servant entered my room
and built a great pine-wood fire in the old-fashioned fireplace. I
thought it remarkable that he at once began telling me of his trials
and hardships as a slave. It was evident that he thought me a
Northern man, or at least one in sympathy with persons in his
condition. I took an early breakfast, and was impatiently waiting for
the hour at which I was to meet the undertaker, when a message was
brought that some gentlemen wished to see me. I received them in the
parlor of the hotel. They were a committee of students from the
college--half a dozen in number--who had come to give me their view
of the situation. A tall, lean, red-haired young man from Georgia
acted as their chairman. I had seen committees of students before,
but this one seemed rather more excited than any which I had
previously met. As the chairman addressed me standing, I also stood.
I cannot give an accurate, verbatim report of his speech, but I
remember the sentiment and the more remarkable turns of expression.
He spoke in substance as follows:--"Sah," said he, " these gentlemen
and I have been appointed a committee by the medical students to
explain this matter to you. It is evident to us, sah, that you don't
understand the facts in the case. Sah, this nigger that you are
trying to get don't belong to the Faculty. He isn't theirs to give
away. They had no right to promise him to you. He belongs to us
students, sah. Me and my chums nearly had to fight to get him. The
Richmond medical students came to Charlestown determined to have him.
I stood over the grave with a revolver in my hand while my chums dug
him up. Now, sah, after risking our lives in this way, for the
Faculty to attempt to take him from us, is mo' 'an we can b'ar. You
must see, sah, and the Faculty must see, that if you persist in
trying to carry out the arrangement you have made, it will open the
do' for all sorts of trouble. We have been told that Governor Wise
gave you permission to come into this State and get this nigger.
Governor Wise, sah, has nothing to do with the matter. He has no
authority over the affairs of our college. We repudiate any
interference on his part. Now, sah, that the facts are befo' you, we
trust that we can go away with your assurance that you will abandon
the enterprise on which you came to our town. Such an assurance is
necessary to give quiet to our people."

I replied to the gentleman from
Georgia that I was glad to hear from all sides of the question; that
the view taken by the students was important, and deserved and should
have respectful consideration; but that, as my arrangements had been
made with the approval of the Faculty, and I had, as yet, no
intimation from them that their view of the matter had, in any way,
been changed, I thought the young men would agree with me that the
courtesy due between gentlemen required that I should not abandon my
undertaking without consultation with their teachers. I closed,
however, by saying that I would cheerfully promise the committee that
I would at once give up my plan when advised to do so by their
professors. The chairman of the committee would have been glad to
have me say, at once, that I would do nothing further; but I adhered
to my purpose. The committee then left, without any discourtesy of
language or manner, but as I thought with some suppressed
feeling.

I went at once to see Professor
Smith, who had shown me much sympathy in my object, and who was on
the point of coming to me. He said, "The Faculty would still be
willing to make an effort to carry out their contract with you, but
they suppose it to be impracticable." He then told me what I had not
heard before, that during the night the students had broken into the
dissecting rooms of the college, had removed the body of Copeland,
and hidden it, it was reported at some place in the country. He added
that if, under these circumstances we were to persist in an effort to
recover the body, the whole country about us would soon be in a state
of excitement. He thought it the wiser course, therefore, that my
object should be given up. I believed he was right, and decided to
act accordingly. The result was a great disappointment to me; but it
seemed to be inevitable.

In thus recording my decision to
abandon further effort, it is a satisfaction to add that time has
made it more and more evident that Copeland was abundantly worthy of
all the interest which we took in his case. Recently the Virginia
officials who were connected with his trial, conviction and
execution, have been publishing the favorable impression he made upon
them. Mr. Andrew Hunter, who was the State prosecutor at the trial,
in communications given to the press a few years since, says:
"Copeland was the cleverest of all the prisoners. He had been
educated at Oberlin. He was the son of a free negro, and behaved
better than any man among them. If I had had the power and could have
concluded to pardon any, he was the man I would have picked out. * *
* He behaved with as much firmness as any of them, and with far more
dignity." Judge Parker, in an interview published in the St. Louis
"Globe Democrat" in 1888, says: "Copeland was the prisoner who
impressed me best. He was a free negro. He had been educated, and
there was a dignity about him that I could not help liking. He was
always manly."

I was now ready to set my face
towards home; but there was no train from Winchester back to Harper's
Ferry until the following morning. By taking a carriage, however, in
the afternoon, across the country to Martinsburg, I could catch the
evening train on the Baltimore and Ohio road for Wheeling. My
arrangements were made, therefore, to do this. Professor Smith
advised me not to go to a hotel when I should reach Martinsburg. A
general military review of all the soldiers who were present at John
Brown's execution, and others also, was in progress that day in
Martinsburg, and there would be many violent and half-drunken men
about the public houses, whom it would be well for me to avoid. He
offered to give me a letter of introduction to 'Squire Conrad, a
friend of his, a lawyer of high character and standing in that town,
and told me to drive directly to his house, and remain there until
the hour for the train. This letter I thankfully accepted. As I had
still two or three hours to wait for dinner, a young member of the
Faculty--I think an associate professor--took me to the college and
showed me its various apartments and appliances for instruction. We
visited the dissecting rooms. The body of Copeland was not there, but
I was startled to find the body of another Oberlin neighbor whom I
had often met upon our streets, a colored man named Shields Greene. I
had indeed known that he also had been executed at Charlestown, as
one of John Brown's associates, but my warm interest in another
object had banished the thought of him from my mind. It was a sad
sight. I was sorry I had come to the building; and yet who was I,
that I should be spared a view of what my fellow-creatures had to
suffer? A fine, athletic figure, he was lying on his back--the
unclosed, wistful eyes staring wildly upward, as if seeking, in a
better world, for some solution of the dark problems of horror and
oppression so hard to be explained in this.

After dinner and after the payment of
bills, including one of considerable amount from the undertaker, who
had made progress, to a certain extent, with his preparations, I was
furnished by my landlord with a comfortable carriage and a colored
driver, to take me to Martinsburg. The drive of perhaps twenty miles
was spirited and enjoyable. It was a fine, clear December day. The
sunshine was golden; there was no snow upon the ground, and the
temperature was mild. The country, agreeably undulating, diversified
with hill and valley, woodland and meadow, and watered by spring-fed
,streams, well deserved the epithet of "beautiful," bestowed upon it
by John Brown when on his way to the scaffold on a like golden day of
the same December. This region was a part of that beautiful valley of
the Shenandoah--the valley of Virginia we called it during the
war--which so fearfully expiated its share in the crime of slavery,
by the desolation which the constant march of successive armies,
Union and Confederate, left upon its fields. The soldiers of
Sheridan, Banks, and Milroy, on the one side, and those of Joseph E.
Johnston, Stonewall Jackson, and Early, on the other, advanced or
retreated over these lands. An intelligent observer once said to me,
"There wasn't a fence rail left in the valley of Virginia after the
war." General Sheridan, having laid it waste, as a military
necessity, wrote to Washington that '"a crow could not find rations"
where he had been. Judge Parker, in a paper already quoted, says:-"I
have no doubt it is true that Winchester changed hands, as is
claimed, more than eighty times, during the war. These were real
occupations, not merely the entrance and exit of scouting parties."
Along the same road over which I was now passing, General Banks, two
or three years later, marched from Winchester to Martinsburg with a
portion of the fifth corps of the army of the Potomac. It was for a
decision reached by him during this march, that he was charged with
violating the Constitution of the United States. It was early in the
war, and many people in the North were still sensitive about fine
constitutional points. A slave woman came from one of the farms along
his route, and climbed upon one of his gun carriages, intending to
ride out of the country with "Massa Linkum's army." What was the
offense which General Banks committed? He let her ride. Until a few
week since, I had been in doubt as to what became of the Winchester
Medical College during the war. Recently, I wrote to the postmaster
of that town, making inquiry upon the subject. In reply, I received a
letter from Dr. Conrad, a gentleman of high standing in Winchester,
which I here quote, and which will explain itself:--

WINCHESTER, VA., Sept. 7,
1894.

JAMES MONROE,

DEAR SIR :--The postmaster asked me,
as the oldest living graduate of the old Winchester Medical College,
to answer your note. The college was burnt by General Banks' army in
May, 1862. He himself regretted it, but his New England doctors and
chaplains did it--applied the torch with their own hands. They
proclaimed that theirs was a Campaign of education. In this manner
did that thorough old school of medicine become obliterated. The
ground, belonging to the State, was sold, and is now built upon. Only
one of the professors now lives--Dr. Hunter McGuire, of
Richmond.

I am, sir, respectfully yours, D. B.
CONRAD.

I should have been glad to have had a
further account of this matter from our own soldiers; but General
Banks had just died when I received this note, and I knew not to whom
else to write. I think it probable that the building had been used by
both sides for military purposes, and this would have justified
either the Union or Confederate forces in destroying it. Towards
sunset, as I approached Martinsburg, I began to meet successive
squads of soldiers--some on horseback, and some in wagons--returning
to their homes from the review. As he saw them coming, my colored
driver would turn well out upon the side of the road, and stop his
horses until they had passed. They were full of Virginia patriotism,
and some of them of something else. I put my head out of the
carriage, and gazed at them with all the innocent curiosity I could
express. They inspected me narrowly. It would have been very natural,
in such a time of suspicion and scrutiny, if they had asked my name
and residence, and business in the State. This might have been
embarrassing, and I was thankful when I had run the gauntlet
unquestioned. Having entered Martinsburg, I went, as advised, to the
house of 'Squire Conrad, where the letter of Professor Smith procured
me a friendly reception. Mr. Conrad introduced me to his daughter--an
amiable and intelligent young lady--and to Captain Conrad, his son--a
genial, ingenuous, and manly fellow--who had commanded a company at
Brown's execution. I was happy, on invitation, to take my evening
meal of tea and toast in this kindly social atmosphere. There was, I
think, no other member of the family living, except a son who was
pursuing a course of study at the Episcopal Theological Seminary at
Alexandria. 'Squire Conrad, though a slave-holder, was a decided
Union man; but when Virginia voted in favor of secession, the whole
family, regretfully, but almost unavoidably, were drawn into the
movement. I explained to him the object of my visit to the State, of
which he appeared to approve; and he cordially offered me the
hospitality of his house until I should wish to take a train for the
North. During our conversation, he spoke of the mild character of
slavery in his neighborhood, saying, that he had never known but one
master who had neglected to provide for his slaves when old, and he
had lost standing with his class. During the contest at Harper's
Ferry, Colonel Washington, a descendant of a brother of George
Washington, and several other citizens, had been held as prisoners
for a time, by John Brown, in the arsenal. Referring to some question
which had been raised as to whether Colonel Washington had behaved
with proper courage, Mr. Conrad said he did not think the Courage of
any man bearing the name of Washington could be questioned, but he
did wonder how Colonel Washington could have continued to exist
thirty hours without whiskey. After tea he excused himself to attend
some meeting of his Church, saying, he would leave me in Charge of
his son and daughter; and very pleasant young people they were to be
left in charge of, as I can certify. I shall never forget the
kindness of this family, which, shown to me under these peculiar
circumstances, was doubly grateful. We learned that the train would
not arrive until ten o'clock, and I suggested to Captain Conrad that
as he might have other engagements, and as I could find my way to the
train without difficulty, alone, it was not necessary that he should
give me the whole evening. He replied that his time was quite at my
service; and there was so much excitement among their people, that he
thought it better I should not be without the presence of some
gentleman who could vouch for me. We had a long talk that evening
about John Brown, Governor Wise, and the growing discord between
North and South. He thought it unnecessary and impolitic that the
authorities should have made such a military display at the time of
the execution, and laughed at the stories of abolitionists coming
over the mountains to rescue Brown. He paid a striking tribute to
their courage of the great fighter for freedom. The incident is a
painful one, but it is instructive. An acquaintance of his who stood
behind Brown on the scaffold, and who, in the discharge of official
duty, had had much of that sad kind of experience, told him that,
generally, however firm a condemned man might, in the main, appear,
yet as his hands lay bound, one upon the other, behind his back,
there was certain to be some nervous movement of the fingers, as the
fatal moment drew near; but that, in the case of Brown, the fingers
lay as quiet as those of a sleeping child. As the hour of ten
approached, Captain Conrad accompanied me to the station, and when
the train arrived, to guard against the possible effects of a hostile
telegram which might be sent to some town up the road by an
evil-disposed person, he went on board the sleeper with me,
introduced me to the conductor as a man entitled to courteous
treatment, and commended me to his protection. He then bade me
good-by. That I was protected I am certain, for, after a good night's
sleep, I awoke, safe and sound, the next morning, in the city of
Wheeling.

This is perhaps a suitable point to
add whatever I have been able to learn of the subsequent history of
the Conrad family. When the war broke out both of the sons entered
the Confederate army. It must have been before the close of the year
1861, that, in some paper, I accidentally came upon a paragraph,
which I suppose had been copied originally from the Virginia press,
to the effect that two sons of 'Squire Conrad, of Winchester,
officers in the Confederate service, had both been killed in the
first Battle of Bull Run; that their bodies had been recovered, had
been brought home to Winchester, and buried by moonlight.

Having crossed the Ohio River at
Wheeling, and experienced the satisfaction of once more setting my
feet upon free soil, I took the cars for Wellsville. Being compelled
to wait there an hour or two for a train to Cleveland, I sent two
telegrams to Oberlin--one to my family and another to the mayor of
the town. I had lost a knowledge of both of these dispatches until
Mr. Copeland kindly furnished me with an old copy of the Cleveland
"Leader" of December 28, 1859, which contains the telegram to the
mayor. It reads as follows:--

WELLSVILLE, OHIO Dec. 23,
1859.

To MAYOR BEECHER:

Obtained consent of the Faculty of
Winchester Medical College to take the body. Arrangements nearly
completed. Was prevented by the students.

J. MONROE.

This telegram, I afterwards learned, afforded
my friends considerable relief; as they had heard nothing of me from Monday
until Friday of that week. The next day, Saturday, December 24, I reached home,
and on the after-noon of Sunday, the day following--Christmas Day--there was
a mass meeting in the First Church, at which I was required to give a full account
of my failure. I speak of the effort as a failure. In one sense it was a failure,
but in another sense it was not. As a community and as individuals, we had done
what we could, according to our sense of duty; and this is always success. At
first I dreaded to meet the parents; but when I did meet them, I experienced
unexpected relief. They had found much comfort in the fact that, by the kind
providence of God, every reasonable effort had been made in their own behalf,
and in behalf of the memory of their son. They were grateful to God and grateful
to their neighbors. Their satisfaction was increased by the accounts which came
in of the manly bearing of their boy in the time of the terrible ordeal; and
they were finally enabled to say with the great apostle, "For I reckon that
the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory
which shall be revealed in us."